


Because You're Worth It

by MissSuzeH



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Post-Hogwarts, Romance, doing things for a friend, facing demons, people can change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-10 12:06:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3289754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSuzeH/pseuds/MissSuzeH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy asks his best friend Hermione Granger for help. Help that means she has to return to Malfoy Manor and confront not only her demons but also his father, Lucius.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Bad Idea

**Author's Note:**

> Only my second Harry Potter fanfic. I hope you like it, comments always welcome. Apologies as always for errors of any kind.

 

 

 “Draco be realistic” Hermione exclaimed in exasperation. “In what universe magical or otherwise is your father going to talk to me, let alone take any notice of what I am saying?”

 

“You know I wouldn’t ask unless I was desperate” Draco implored, his grey eyes sad and pleading with his best friend. “Please Hermione, for me. I am at my wits end”

 

Hermione Granger sank down onto the small sofa behind her. What could she say? Much as she wanted to help Draco, she honestly didn’t think she could: “But Draco”

 

“I know you hate my father” He cut in, pacing up and down in her office at the Ministry of Magic just as he had been for the last twenty minutes. “And with just cause, but I really do not know who else to turn to.”

She looked at her friend, she couldn’t ever remember seeing him so wound up or in such a state about anything, not even that fateful day at the Battle of Hogwarts when he had re-joined his parents. Hermione took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully.

“Draco, firstly I do not hate your father. Not anymore” She added quietly, taking Draco’s hands in her own, both for reassurance and to stop the infernal pacing which was making her feel quite nauseous. She squeezed them gently. The fact that they had become friends at all amazed her sometimes, the strength of that friendship was almost unbelievable.

“You and I, we have been friends for too long now and are too close for me to hold a grudge. The past is the past, you have to move on. We are proof of that. And I can hardly hate someone I haven’t seen in Merlin knows how long.”

Draco smiled weakly at Hermione, why was she always so bloody smart and reasonable?  Probably those were among the reasons why he was asking for her help now.

“There you are then” He tried a little reasoning of his own. “You haven’t seen my father in so long, Hermione he has changed, honestly. You think if he hadn’t I would care this much about him, be in the slightest be bit bothered about his well-being.”

Hermione sighed, one thing about Draco that never changed was his stubbornness, an inherent trait she thought dismally. She did however see the logic behind her friend’s reasoning but was still unconvinced that the elder Malfoy would even speak to her let alone listen to anything she might have to say.

“That might be the case Draco but…..but I stand by my original argument. However Lucius Malfoy has changed I am sure that he is never going to take any notice of a Mudblood like me.”

“Don’t, Hermione, please don’t use that word.” The plea came almost as a strangled hiss between his teeth. “I hate it and it reminds me of how horrible I was to you, we all were to you”

“And there you have it Draco” Hermione gestured helplessly releasing his hands. “No way is your father going to listen to me.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

_Why on earth had she agreed to this? Much as she loved her friend, she felt his faith in her abilities were on this occasion sadly misplaced._

_It was almost four years since Hermione had stood on this very spot. She trembled at the all too vivid recollection, tugging her coat around herself. At least this time she was here of her own volition, well if emotional blackmail and severe arm twisting by your best friend could be deemed “of her own volition”._

_She could easily have apparated here or travelled by floo, Draco told her it would be fine, promising he would be there to meet her. But if Hermione were to put her demons about this house to bed, she needed to do this her way and her way meant walking along the cobbled pathway, overlooked on either side by tall immaculately trimmed hedges, to the imposing wrought iron front gates._

_Even in the beautiful late evening sunshine, Malfoy Manor still scared the life out of her._

_* * * * * * * * * *_

“Draco don’t keep thanking me I haven’t done anything yet and to be honest…….well your father didn’t even join us for dinner so I really am not…..”

He cut her off quickly: “I know I know” He shrugged his shoulders. “But well…I cannot begin to imagine how hard it must be for you to even set foot this in this house again. The fact that you have, for _me_ and my f…… well thanks for that.  Look I promised to floo call Astoria, let he know you had arrived ok and”

It was Hermione’s turn to cut him off: “Go I will be fine, one decent thing I do recall about this house is the library” She smiled affectionately at Draco hoping her smile would pacify him.

 

Out in the huge hallway, Hermione was confronted with various doors and corridors. She might well recall the wonderful library that Malfoy Manor possessed but recalling where exactly it was located was another matter entirely.   She toyed with the idea of just opening a door here and a door there but even that could take a while and she wasn’t exactly sure she wanted to know what was behind some of the doors in the foreboding house.

A sudden crack behind her heralded the arrival of a house elf, who announced himself as Raffy and had apparently been sent by the young master in case Missy needed anything.

“Thoughtful as ever Draco and knowing me too well” Hermione mused to herself, before asking the small creature if it could tell her where the library was. After much worried tugging on its tatty gown and large ears Raffy told her where the room was located before disapparating rather quickly.

 

Hermione pushed open the large heavy door. The room was dimly lit by a roaring fire and two candles which burnt on either side of the vast stone mantel, this was her idea of heaven. 

Inside the room were two oversized wing back leather chairs. They were some distance apart and faced the welcoming fire, maybe she would grab a book and make herself comfortable in one.  A beautiful and expensive looking rug covered most of the polished wooden floor. Hermione slipped off her shoes, enjoying its luxurious feel on her bare feet, she padded across the room towards the spiral staircase which led to a mezzanine floor and even more glorious books.     About to ascend the staircase Hermione’s eye was drawn to a copy of The Timeless Art of Apothecary, she trailed her forefinger lovingly down the spine over the gold embossed writing and tugged it from the shelf. Opening the clearly well-thumbed volume Hermione was immediately absorbed in its pages, walking back to one of the inviting chairs and the crackling fire. Without looking up, she sat down. 

She was all too easily lost in a good book and this one was exceptional. She curled her long legs under herself, shifting the large volume in her lap and making herself comfortable. Its script and illustrations were simply exquisite and she sighed contentedly. Turning a page, Hermione glanced up for the first time.  An audible gasp escaping her lips as her brown gazed collided with the inscrutable pale grey of Lucius Malfoy.  He was, what could only be described as lounging quietly in the other chair across the room.  She wasn’t sure if she was more shocked by his actual presence in the room, which she clearly hadn’t detected or by his appearance.  

 

He smiled briefly, a smile which didn’t quite reach his penetrating grey eyes.

“Good evening Miss Granger.” He inclined his head in acknowledgement. “Draco told me you were here. How are you?”

 

Hermione fought to keep her reactions in check. His familiar aristocratic drool evoking all sorts of memories and emotions. But it was his unkempt appearance that strangely stirred the deepest feelings, not only was she shocked but she also found herself saddened. 

“Good evening Mr Malfoy, I am well thank you.” 

She tried to keep her voice light and courteous, as if this conversation were an everyday occurrence.

“It was a shame you were unable to join us for dinner.” She hoped her words sounded genuine and not sarcastic.

In truth she had anticipated he would join them, for Draco’s sake if nothing else and had felt an odd sense of disappointment when he hadn’t.

Casting her eyes back to the book Hermione avoided staring at Lucius Malfoy. His image reminding her of that dreadful day when Hogwarts was destroyed, it was the one and only time she could recall seeing him without his dress robes, that was until now! 

Now he was clad entirely in black, the harshness of the colour accentuating his pallor. His impeccable tailoring a stark contrast to his physical appearance.  The shirt was open at the neck, the two or three unsecured buttons exposing a column of naked alabaster skin and dark blonde chest hair. The most skin she had ever seen on display. He wore black trousers, they clung to his clearly muscled legs which were elegantly crossed revealing polished leather boots. Unusually for Lucius Malfoy he was devoid of any jewellery and his serpent headed cane was conspicuous by its absence.

Hermione tried to observe him surreptitiously from beneath her lashes, not wanting to appear rude, hoping the dim light would conceal her line of vision a little. His usually lustrous blonde hair, was lank and unwashed. It had always hung like a curtain of gold around his, much as she hated to admit, strikingly handsome face. Today it straggled across his broad shoulders in an uneven mess. His angular features hidden beneath a dirty looking stubble.  Hermione could understand why Draco was worried about his father.

 


	2. Poking The Bear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A longer chapter this time. Time for some revelations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you enjoyed the first chapter, was a bit nervous with this one. Comments always welcome as is constructive criticism. 
> 
> Thank you for reading

Lucius Malfoy regarded the young woman, one could only describe as curled up in the seat opposite him.  He found himself intrigued, the notion irking him.

“I wasn’t in the mood to dress for dinner.” He said condescendingly accentuating his cultured tones.

He discarded his scruffy appearance with a dismissive wave of a graceful hand. The other rested on the arm of the chair, nursing a heavy glass tumbler containing a hefty tot of what she could only assume was Firewhiskey.  The cuffs of his shirt were loose at his wrist, no serpent cufflinks to secure them Hermione noted. 

 

She thought for a long moment finally raising her eyes once more to take in his dishevelled form. Should she take the _softly softly_ approach or should she just go for the jugular?  Hermione quickly came to the conclusion that if she opted for the _softly softly_ approach, she would very quickly loose her nerve and she had the distinct feeling she would be treated to a series of smooth but dismissive and acerbic rejoinders, which whilst being polite would achieve precisely nothing. 

Something deep down told her that if she was going to do this, and she had promised Draco a little voice reminded her, she needed to attack it head on and not pussy foot around.  She had to poke the bear!

The idea of poking the former Death Eater in any shape or form was not something Hermione Granger was sure she was brave enough to do. “You promised Draco” that irritating little voice helpfully reminded her again. 

 

“Perhaps Mr Malfoy” She jutted her chin determinedly as she spoke, hoping she looked more assured than she felt. “You didn’t feel a Mudblood was worth dressing for.”

Hermione held her breath. Whilst his appearance might not have looked anything like the man she once recalled with such fear and loathing. The derisive sneer that curled his top lip, just visible beneath the layer of growth that covered his face was clearly still very much in evidence.

 

“I assure you Miss Granger” He began in those noble clipped tones of his, “A beautiful woman is _always_ worth dressing, or undressing for, whatever her breeding. I merely didn’t feel like it.”

 

Hermione was totally thrown by his response, uncertain as to whether she had just been insulted or complimented.

 

Lucius stretched his long legs and then crossed them once more, regarding the young woman seated in his library. She was clutching a book defensively for all she was worth. He hadn’t expected to see Hermione Granger in this house again, not in his lifetime.  He felt a sudden swell of warmth at her courage.

“I admire your courage Miss Granger. You must think an awful lot of my son to be here, to want to set foot in this house again.”

He cast his eyes towards the fire, avoiding her gaze, swallowing hard as he recalled the last time she had been here at the Manor.  It certainly wasn’t his finest hour. He had allowed nothing more than a child to be tortured both mentally and physically by his late sister-in-law. The image had been indelibly etched on his brain. He could still see her small bird like frame lying trembling on the floor, Bellatrix crouched over her, tormenting her. He recalled the sobs that had wracked her body as she pleaded with the deranged witch and the piercing terrified screams that had filled the air. Watching and doing nothing as tears trickled down her face, blood down her arm, it was indefensible.

He brought his grey eyes back to once again meet her warm brown ones.  “It cannot hold any pleasant memories for you.” He added softly, almost shamefully.

 

Lucius was right of course the house had held nothing but horrible memories and when she had stood outside those few short hours ago it had filled her with an overwhelming sense of dread.  But now, now it didn’t feel like the same house, she didn’t feel the same person. Was it because it was all a long time ago and she was finally laying her demons to rest? Had the passing of time really healed those mental and physical scars? She really didn’t know. She couldn’t however help the small smile that tugged at her lips. Lucius repeating the words Draco had said earlier in the evening almost verbatim.  How alike they were in so many ways, she thought, even if at this moment the physical similarities were somewhat marred. 

 

“Draco and I are very close Mr Malfoy” she affirmed noncommittally.

Lucius nodded knowingly: “My son……”

He began tentatively as if not wanting to discuss his son with her. 

“My son is worried about me” The statement was matter-of-fact, blasé almost.

Lucius studied her for a few moments, watching as she avoided his eyes, her pretty face flushing slightly. Realisation dawned. “He asked you to talk to me!”

Hermione saw a flicker of amusement in his face and bristled. Angry that Lucius had seen through Draco’s plan so quickly and also at the idea that he found his son’s concern funny. Or perhaps it was the thought of her talking to him that amused the dark wizard.

 

“Yes he is.” The defiance in her voice palpable. “You find his concern funny?” She clutched at the book, her knuckles whitening.

 

Lucius found his respect for this young woman intensifying by the second. Her courage was obvious on more than one level, he’d witnessed that first hand, as was her loyalty to his son.

He of course understood that Draco was her friend and she would want to do anything she could for him. But that she would lay aside everything that had happened in the past and put herself in this position, well quite frankly it humbled him.

“Oh on the contrary Miss Granger. I am greatly warmed by his concern for a father who doesn’t merit such consideration. I am also a little in awe of your courage.”

 

Hermione looked directly into those steely grey eyes for the first time, seeing genuine emotion and sincerity in their depths. She felt a peculiar heat flood her body, her heart hammering in her chest, at his contrition? His compliment? Or something more? She was too surprised to determine which. 

She didn’t however want this conversation to be about her and whilst flattered by his words she decided that having poked the bear a little, it was time to meet the bull and take him well and truly by the horns.

“Mr Malfoy, Draco cares for you a great deal and yes he is worried about you. It would appear with just cause.” Finally releasing her grip on the book, Hermione gestured his appearance. “Funny” She continued quickly before she lost her nerve. “The last time I saw you, as I recall you didn’t look much better!”

 

She had a point thought Lucius. Unexpectedly recalling the last time he had seen Hermione Granger. It had been amongst the burning rubble of Hogwarts, her bravery evident even then. The precocious 19 year old, standing up alongside her friends against the Dark Lord.  He pondered reflectively for a few moments, his thoughts lost in the crackling fire.

 

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip watching Lucius Malfoy intently. Despite fearing his reactions, this was proving a lot easier than she imagined. Draco’s “ _my father has changed_ ” was beginning to look like the understatement of the century. The frightening thing about him now was just how much like Draco he actually was. A little in appearance, but with his chiselled features and sharper bone structure Lucius had the edge on looks.  They had similar mannerisms and even in this very short exchange, Hermione detected that they had unbelievably similar standards, which were more than just breeding.  Lucius had clearly just preferred to keep his hidden and to the outside world he simply chose to appear a bigoted, disdainful bastard.

 

The pin dropping silence in the room was suddenly shattered by laughter.  OK not exactly the reaction she was anticipating, thrown once more but his totally unexpected response. The laughter _had_ reached his eyes this time and they twinkled in amusement.

Lucius viewed her carefully from beneath his long lashes. “Touché Miss Granger, touché.  Wisdom does not necessarily come with age. In our youth we act like petulant children, as we get older we still do. We simply feel we can hide it behind our advancing years and get away with it.”

 

It was Hermione’s turn to laugh. Lucius Malfoy might look like a vagrant from Knockturn Alley, but she would hardly have considered him in his dotage.  In fact if anything, despite the tramp look he was currently sporting, Lucius was a very attractive man. His skin was flawless, he had the most amazing cheekbones and a full sensual mouth, there were a few lines about the edge and around his eyes but age suited him, it actually improved him, physically anyway.

 

“The last week or so.” He began suddenly.

“Well in the last week or so I have I have been feeling uncharacteristically sorry for myself and have allowed myself to wallow in self-pity.” He explained his expression becoming serious once more.

“Draco is about to get married. Obviously I have few friends and I will be alone. Rattling around in this mausoleum of a house. Honestly I felt that your presence here would simply compound that.”

“So it’s….. My fault!” Hermione interrupted him, her words slow and deliberate.

“What no, of course not.” His exasperation was tangible. “What I mean is you being here simply reminds me of the reasons for that. I am not proud of many things I have done in my life Miss Granger. I suppose with my only son getting married it has made me a little reflective. Wishing I had done things differently, taken another path as it were.”

He paused expecting her to say something, she didn’t.  Instead she sat motionless in the chair, the book still resting in her lap as she listened intently. In only the glow of firelight he could see her beautiful brown eyes tinged with sadness, lost in their depths he felt strangely compelled to continue.

“Draco was in London for a few days last week.  I woke up the first morning he was away to the stark realisation that in a few months’ every day would be like that.  My son will have a wife of his own, hopefully a family one day and I honestly don’t begrudge him any of it, I am truly happy for him. It was as if for the first time I was seeing just how excruciatingly quiet and empty both my house and my life were without his presence.”

 

Hermione was astonished by his openness, that he would choose to share something so personal with her. She had always seen Lucius Malfoy as a cold unfeeling man, who may have cared deeply about his only child, but who as an aristocrat had little time or affection for him.  She studied his distinctive profile as he looked sightlessly into the fire. His once proud arrogance supplanted by an almost reflective despondency.

Without looking at her he continued, as if he were simply talking out loud.

“It was all I could think about, no matter how I tried to shake it off. There was something to remind me at every turn. The long endless day stretched into an infinitely lonely night.”

Hermione listened in stunned silence as Lucius Malfoy continued to speak, his deep baritone voice the only sound in the room, save the occasional crackle or spit from the fire.  Just when she thought he had completely forgotten she was there, he turned to look at her. His grey eyes emotionless.

“Even this failed to help.” He held up his glass, the liquid glowing a rich amber in the firelight.

 

Hermione hadn’t expected Lucius to speak to her let alone practically bare his soul. She was unprepared and not entirely sure how to respond to his outpouring. She opened her mouth to speak but words eluded her.

 

Hermione Granger at a loss for words now that was something. Even the first time they’d met in Flourish & Botts, the gifted 12 year old had been very vocal and free with her opinion. He smiled briefly at the recollection of their initial encounter, his smile fading as he recalled his haughty and derisive put down of her and her Muggle born parents. Another transgression to add to an already long list.  Lucius raised the crystal tumbler to his lips taking a substantial mouthful he regarded his young companion over the rim and continued.

“When I woke up the next morning, I hoped, despite the hangover, I would feel better.  My large empty bed was just another bitter reminder that my life was devoid of any intimacy, warmth or passion and very little contact with others.”

 

Hermione flushed deeply at his revelation and of the picture it conjured up. Not the one of a lonely man in a large empty bed but of this man enjoying intimacy, warmth and passion.  Hermione Granger imagined that Lucius Malfoy was a very passionate man.  Heat infused her body.

Despite the dim light in the room Lucius noticed the gentle flush on her cheeks.

“I am sorry Miss Granger I have embarrassed you.”

Finally Hermione found her voice, small as it was. “No, not at all Mr Malfoy.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, she’d actually embarrassed herself. “I um …truthfully….”

“Always” He interjected, surprising Hermione still further.

“Truthfully, I am a little taken aback, by your honesty and frankness. Especially….especially with me.”

The two of them regarded each other across the room.

“Oddly Miss Granger I find you exceptionally easy to talk to.  My son is clearly a better judge of character than I was and it would appear knows his father all too well."

That first day he was away. I got up and did everything I normally did. As I sat alone reading the Daily Prophet over breakfast, I asked myself why did I bother, what was the point? So the next morning and the morning after that I didn’t and so it went on.  

Things might have been very different had I made……” His voice suddenly trailed off and he drained his glass placing it on the small table by the side of his chair.

“Draco wanted you to find out what was wrong, so now you know.” He shrugged his broad shoulders nonchalantly.

Yes she did know, but Hermione wasn’t sure she how she could share this with Draco or if she wanted to.  Now she felt like she would be betraying his father’s confidence.

She hadn’t considered what Draco’s father would do once he and Astoria were married. Why would she? Never in a million years would she have thought about him being alone at Malfoy Manor. The Lucius Malfoy of old was always surrounded by people, maybe they weren’t necessarily friends, but they certainly seemed to keep him busy. There always appeared to be enough going on in his life. But she supposed that was then, this was now, things change.

Of course Draco spoke often of his father, but thinking about it now, it was only really in passing conversation. Never going into any great detail about what he did, his work or his friends. She just assumed he was Lord of the Manor and that was it, his role in life.

 

Lucius didn’t want the pity he could see so clearly etched on her face. Her understanding, yes and maybe even her forgiveness, one day, although he certainly didn’t deserve either.  But he definitely didn’t want her pity. 

“Perhaps I have simply been feeling my age Miss Granger.” He said suddenly, his tone of voice shifting, lightening.

Hermione noticed the change, perhaps it was his unspoken way of telling her he’d said all he was going to on the subject. She followed his lead, keeping her response light.

“I would hardly consider you Methuselah, Mr Malfoy. You are sti….” Hermione stopped herself short, however attractive she might find Lucius Malfoy telling him was not the wisest move to make. 

She regarded him with some measured amusement before continuing, watching his grey eyes darken at her unfinished sentence.

“However, if you continue to rock the grunge look, I cannot say you won’t remain alone.”

Hermione bit her lip, feeling suddenly a little too comfortable in his usually formidable presence, she’d let her words run away with her just a little too freely.

 

“Miss Granger I don’t speak _Muggle_ ,” He snapped, trying to hide his delight at her discomfort, clearly having said more than she had perhaps intended. “But is this your way of telling me I need to re-evaluate my appearance?” His refined and articulate tones positively dripped sarcasm.

 

Unable to speak for fear her voice would come as some inaudible squeak Hermione simply nodded. Visibly relaxing when a small smile quirked his mouth, his cold grey eyes softening.

 

“It would appear I owe both you and Draco my deepest apologies. My son, for giving him cause to worry with such gravity that he felt the need to call in reinforcements. And you.”

He rose from the chair, closing the space between them in a couple of powerful strides, he stopped. Standing directly in front of her, he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her head back to meet his imposing height. For a few moments he remained silent, searching her face for answers to so many unspoken questions.  

 

 “And you for so many things.” He said simply, his voice hoarse, faltering with emotion.

Not for the first time that evening. Hermione was at a loss for words and caught completely off guard by Lucius Malfoy’s response, this time both verbally and physically. His beautiful grey eyes seemed to penetrate her very soul and to her horror Hermione found tears prick her own eyes at his heartfelt words. The feather light trace of his fingers against her skin seemed to touch and awaken every nerve in her body.

 

“But…..” He continued more assuredly and in a lighter vein. “Starting with my lack of good manners for not correctly dressing and welcoming a guest in my house for dinner.”

She couldn’t help but smile at him, she was actually enjoying his company, heightening her disappointment that he had opted not to join her and Draco for dinner. She had a feeling if he wanted to Lucius Malfoy would make a very entertaining and genial host, well there was always tomorrow she thought. 

“Well perhaps you could redress that tomorrow Mr Malfoy. Draco has asked me to stay until Sunday, if that is alright with you?” She heard her cheeky words voiced out loud, relieved to see a soft grin curve his lips, but something else flicker in his eyes.

 

Only until Sunday thought Lucius, he was already enjoying the company of the feisty and outspoken Miss Granger. She was like a breath of fresh air and he felt his house would be an even lonelier place once she departed.  Chastising himself for not having made an effort to greet Draco’s friend and mortified at how he had allowed himself to appear. He was now torn between wanting to stay here and enjoy her company or to make himself more presentable.   The question was, how to get around combining the two without cutting short what was turning out to be a surprisingly pleasant evening?

 

 

Draco Malfoy breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of their voices. When his father had opted not to join them for dinner he had feared Hermione was right and that she didn’t stand a chance of getting through to his father. A chink of light had appeared on the horizon, when a clearly agitated Raffy had apparated in his room whilst he was floo calling Astoria.  Shuffling from foot to foot and pulling painfully on his large ears the house elf’s eyes had widened yet further in horror as he had told the young master that.

“The new missy had gone into the library and that _MASTER_ was in there”. 

It had taken a vast amount of convincing both on Draco and Astoria’s part to convince the flustered elf that this was in fact ok. That he did not need to go and inflict any barbaric tortures upon himself, and that the ironing of any parts of himself were strictly not necessary.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. A Leap Of Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversation with Lucius takes a very different turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the nice reviews. I sincerely hope that you won’t be disappointed (fingers crossed). This was something that popped into my head and wouldn’t go away. Here’s hoping that you enjoy it. Maybe not what you were expecting……………………………..

 

Hermione felt the familiar pull of apparition and found herself no longer seated in the comfortable leather chair in the library, but on the edge of a large four poster bed.  Her eyes darted around the room in alarm taking in the dark very masculine tones.

“What the…….” She muttered out loud.

Hermione swallowed hard. Divested of his black shirt, Lucius Malfoy was leaning against a door jamb leading from what was obviously his bedroom to another room, his dressing room perhaps or a bathroom. Naked from the waist up, revealing a broad well-toned torso that she struggled to tear her eyes from.  This was definitely more skin than she had _ever_ seen on display and it was very unnerving. Quite gorgeous, but none the less very unnerving.

“Mr Malfoy!” Hermione’s voice came out a few octaves higher than usual as she stood up indignantly, her legs wobbling slightly.

“Lucius, please” He instructed smoothly, not in the least bit perturbed by her demeanour or it would appear the fact that he was half naked in his bedroom.

“Miss Granger, or would you allow me to call you Hermione?”

He smiled, moving further into his bedroom. It was at this point than Hermione noticed something in his left hand glint. It wasn’t his wand, nor was it his obligatory serpent headed cane. To her horror she realised it was a very sharp straight edged razor.  Slightly open with what appeared to be a bone or ivory handle clasped between his long elegant fingers. Hermione gasped her brown eyes widening in absolute terror.

“There are some things that a man needs to do without the use of magic.”

Totally oblivious it would seem to the fear he was inflicting on his young companion. He held the razor aloft with some considerable pride.

“It was most enjoyable talking to you” He declared matter-of-factly “And I thought we might continue, whilst I endeavoured to ditch the how was it you put it…… _grunge look.”_

Hermione’s panic was replaced by total confusion as he chattered on. Her eyes drawn to his long fingers as he caressed the handle of the vicious looking instrument like a lover. Before sliding his thumb along the sharp blade.

Merlin’s bloody teeth, the man was going to shave. Hermione slumped back down onto the bed.  Gripping the silver coloured silk bedspread in a multitude of emotions, ranging from anger, to relief and a certain amount of incredulity.

“You could have bloody well asked.” She spat at him.

Lucius was a little taken aback at her venom, not having given his spontaneous but well-meant actions a second thought. He then took in the situation he had unwittingly created. 

He had without warning or consent apparated a young woman to his bedroom.  A young woman he hadn’t seen in a considerable amount of years. His son’s friend and a woman with whom he did not have the most unblemished of histories. Now here he was, partially naked and holding what could only be described as a lethal weapon.  Taking all this into account Lucius suddenly considered himself extremely lucky she hadn’t reached for her wand and _evanescoed_ him or worse!

His head dropped slightly and his pale face unbelievably flushed. That revolting mop of so called blonde hair falling over his face.  Despite all of this, Lucius was unable to bring himself to apologise, because frankly he wasn’t the least bit sorry, in fact with the exception of wielding the razor and clearly frightening the poor girl half to death, he quite liked the scenario. Hermione Granger on his bed, him half naked, what wasn’t to like? His lower body stirred in agreement.

 

Having recovered from the initial shock of being apparated without any notice and then finding herself deposited on Lucius Malfoy’s bed. Hermione waited for her breathing to return to normal. The sight of him clad in only a pair of well fitting, impeccably tailored black trousers was really not helping with that process at all.  

Trying desperately to drag her eyes away from his surprisingly well-toned upper body with the spattering of dark blonde hair which she could now clearly see, Hermione’s eyes once again fell on the glinting razor. Was he really going to use that she wondered? 

The thought of him doing mundane things like shaving or showering hadn’t occurred to her. She felt sure he would have a charm to cover both eventualities, saving any unnecessary Muggle type exertions.

 

Lucius noticed her wide brown eyes fall on the razor and then wander back to his face, her unspoken question obvious.

“As I said some things are better without the use of magic. Feeling the dangerous closeness of a very sharp blade and how soft and smooth it leaves the skin is one of those pleasures.”

 

Talking of dangerous closeness.......she didn’t dare contemplate what any of the other magic free pleasures were, but Hermione’s brain was way ahead of her and her face flushed at the contemplations.   Heat suffusing her body.

 

Lucius caught the flush on her skin and couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking about.

She looked so pretty and waif like in the huge room.  He had an overwhelming urge to scoop her up in his arms, hold her small body against him and experience its soft warm delights.

 

Trying to get the conversation back on some sort of track Hermione heard herself asking if he needed a steady hand and if it was very hard. Oh Merlin, not the best choice of words, Hermione silently berated herself. Rephrasing now would simply emphasise the double entendre, hopefully it had gone straight over Lucius Malfoy’s head. The mischievous twinkling in his grey eyes and the raised eyebrow told her it clearly hadn’t.

“Perhaps you would like to try?” He asked, in a dangerously low tone.

Hermione looked at Lucius as if he taken complete leave of his senses. “Try!” She exclaimed “On what may I ask?”

 

“Me” He said slowly in his aristocratic drool, extending his hand and the razor.

 

Hermione regarded the Dark Wizard as if he were completely mad.  Her body was still trembling at the succession of shocks he had already inflicted on her system. Now he was prepared to let her loose on his devilishly attractive face with one of the sharpest implements she could ever recall seeing. Perhaps Draco should be more worried about his father than she had initially thought.

 

“Miss Granger, Hermione. I am sure that your learning skills are still second to none. I do not doubt for one minute my neck and face will be perfectly safe in your capable hands”.

He regarded her shocked face with wry amusement.

“I am placing my trust, quite literally in your hands.” He said smiling earnestly. “I am certain that in order to get you into this house my son will have told you I have changed. I am equally certain that despite your affection and loyalty to Draco you will have doubted this greatly and I do not blame you. Call this a leap of faith.”

 

Hermione contemplated his words for a moment before moving a little closer to the intimidating man and carefully taking the glittering object from his outstretched hand. Her own shaking slightly, this was not a good start.  She looked up into his striking but scruffy face and then glanced back at her own hand. “You promised Draco” That irksome little voice chided again. “Yes but not to slit his father’s throat” she muttered inaudibly “I hope Lucius Malfoy has a reparo charm that works on severed arteries.”

Silently she followed Lucius through into the next room.

 

 

Hermione felt as if she had entered an inner sanctum. His bedroom was intimate of course, but this was something completely different, somehow more personal. An almost cave like sanctuary in varying darkening shades of purple and grey. Nothing like she had imagined, not that she had spent any time imagining Lucius Malfoy’s bathroom.  If she had however, a spectacular marble fireplace and a black freestanding tub with silver lion’s feet would not have pictured highly in the mental image. But they were the two items which dominated the room, which was almost as big as the one adjoining it.

Incredulously it occurred to Hermione, prior to his vagrant look, this was a room where Lucius Malfoy liked to spend time. Recalling how he always used to look she could understand why. It was like a Muggle Spa, a very exclusive Muggle spa.  

 

Lucius watched with interest as Hermione surveyed the room, her eyes darting curiously from one object to another, dropping down into a small armchair he made himself comfortable: One leg draped casually over the other.  A very bizarre sense of delight ebbing through his veins. 

 

The hot moist towel had felt so good as she’d wrapped it around his face, allowing it to cool as he had instructed, before removing and repeating the action. He had tried not to laugh when her tentative fingers had dropped the small badger brush before adroitly applying lather to his face and neck.

Their eyes had met and there had been a brief pause before Lucius felt the cold scratch of steel against his skin. A fission of apprehension and heady delight coursed through his veins it was a strangely potent cocktail, which heated his blood.

 

He had shown her how to hold the implement and the angles to use, he was however still expecting a hesitant touch. He was pleasantly surprised at the firm confidence with which she applied and handled the blade, her other hand keeping his flesh taught so as not to cut him. 

Even in such a mundane gesture her hands felt thrilling against his skin. His eyes fluttering shut as her actions became even more assured and the sharp blade dragged across his face, he relaxed against her touch. Only the gentle sounds of the razor scraping his skin, the odd splash of water and their breathing could be heard in the still room.

Lucius couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so peaceful and at ease. Ironic really considering someone who had once hated him so much, had a razor to his throat.

He savoured the moments, it had been a very long time since he had enjoyed the sensation of someone touching him in any way, or doing something for him, no matter how modest the task. Actually what he was relishing was the fact it was Hermione Granger touching him, doing something for him, after everything that had happened.  And those feelings weren’t borne out of some ridiculous sense of supremacy, he was genuinely revelling in her touch.    

Lucius was also experiencing something else he hadn’t in a long time, fortunately a large black towel dropped in his lap was hiding that.

 

Something’s are better without the aid of magic he had said. With that in mind Hermione had been determined to do this without any calming or steadying spells. She concentrated hard, willing her hand not to shake. Shaving anyone with this instrument of torture would be task enough but Lucius Malfoy!

How in Merlin’s name had this even happened? A few hours ago she was convinced the dark wizard wouldn’t give her the time of day and this certainly wasn’t how she had envisaged _helping_ Draco’s father. 

Her concentration waned momentarily, she felt the blade judder and she held her breath waiting for the sight of his red or would that be blue blood, to streak the white lather that covered his face. Fortunately it didn’t come, Hermione let out a sigh of relief drawing her attention firmly back to the task in hand. Amazed as her steady strokes cut uniformly through the thick soap leaving silky smooth skin in their wake. 

She found the process oddly therapeutic and curiously satisfying as little by little his face became more recognisable.  It was a peculiar sensation, the way she could almost feel his skin through the blade, as if were an extension of her fingers.  By the time she reached his chin and top lip Hermione was in an almost trance like state, so deep was her concentration.

The rich creamy lather had dripped onto his lips and Hermione used the soft pad of her thumb to remove it. The action much slower than she had intended it to be as she traced the outline of his slightly parted mouth.

Lucius’s eyes drifted open, watching her through his hooded gaze. She wasn’t looking at him at all, just his mouth, totally absorbed in what she was doing. Typical Hermione he thought absently. The innocuous action was so incredibly erotic it sent a wave of excitement through his already aroused body, causing a pulse to throb in his neck. He closed his eyes once more and stifled a groan as she ran her small hand over his now smooth face.

 

“How did I do?” She asked. Breaking his reveries and taking a stepping back to admire her handiwork, totally oblivious to the effect she was having on her subject.

Lucius sat up carefully in the chair shifting uncomfortably and thankful for the towel that still rested in his lap.

“Are you ok?” She asked watching his rather awkward movement.

“Just a little stiff” He replied, managing to keep his face straight and giving nothing away. “It’s that old age I mentioned”

Hermione raised a neatly plucked eyebrow.  “I very much doubt it” She said, her eyes once again falling upon his well-toned upper body, a man 10 years younger would be only too proud of.

Lucius smirked running his own hand across his face. “Impressive, no nicks, blood or bits missing…. very impressive but then I expected no less.”

Hermione wrinkled her nose at him. “You just need to fix this now.” She touched his hair, like she were picking up something very unsavoury. 

 


	4. Pleasures Without Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is this something else I should try?” She asked in feigned innocence, a wicked smile lifting her lips. Was she poking the bear just a little too hard she wondered?
> 
> Lucius ran a contemplative finger and thumb along his now very smooth chin. His penetrating grey eyes locking with hers. 
> 
> “Why do I suddenly feel more alarmed than I did at the prospect of having you take a three inch blade to my face?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of the Kudos and the comments. I am glad you are enjoying this odd little tale that popped into my head.

 

However much she had loathed Lucius Malfoy in the past, Hermione had to admit she’d often wondered with childlike curiosity which had shamefully developed into somewhat of an adolescent fixation, what it would be like to run her fingers through his long sleek blonde hair. Right at this moment in time the answer was, Yuk not very pleasant.

 

Lucius frowned at her. Much as he might want to convey a thunderous expression of annoyance at her exaggerated gesture of revulsion and wrinkled nose, it actually made him smile. He had to acknowledge she was right, she was holding the proof distastefully between her fingers.

“Is that another of your magic free pleasures?” 

Lucius raised an amused eyebrow as her pretty face flushed once more at the words. “But of course it is my dear, just look around you.” He articulated his point with an elegant sweep of his hand.

 

Hermione wondered if this was the same melancholy man she had been talking to in the library not two hours ago. Drowning his sorrows in Firewhiskey and apparently feeling his age! The same man that Draco had pleaded for help with because he had sunk into a dark depression. As now it appeared that same man was having some fun and clearly at her expense. She should have felt aggrieved but she didn’t, in fact she found the entire situation quite enjoyable.  She also felt a little smug that this drastic turn of events seemed to be solely down to her, who had done very little, save a little verbal sparring and a shave.

How could a simple pleasure as he called it bring about such a transformation in a man?

A lot of things had changed in the last few years. A lot of things had changed in the last hour or so.  

 

“Hmm I think Mr Malfoy, you have more bottles and lotions than I do”

 

“Lucius” He corrected, his palm still appreciatively stroking his newly shaved jawline.

 

Suggesting that Hermione Granger take a razor to his face was one thing, if nothing else but for the pure novelty and curiosity of doing something she had perceptibly never done. Proposing anything else might be chancing his arm just a little bit. She was after all here as a favour to his son. Hmm but then again Draco had asked her here for his benefit too, that much he had ascertained. But that might be stretching the point just a bit too far.  The prospect of explaining to Draco why Miss Granger had left his house so quickly was not a conversation he wanted to have. That was off course if she left him in a position to explain anything.

 

As a child Hermione remembered the out and out torture of having her bushy main of wild hair washed, dried and brushed by her mother.  Lifting one of the copious bottles of shampoo that adorned the glass shelves she turned to face Lucius, devilment getting the better of her.

“Is this something else I should _try?”_ She asked in feigned innocence, a wicked smile lifting her lips. Was she poking the bear just a little too hard she wondered? 

Lucius ran a contemplative finger and thumb along his now very smooth chin. His penetrating grey eyes locking with hers.

“Why do I suddenly feel more alarmed than I did at the prospect of having you take a three inch blade to my face?”

 

Hermione heard Lucius mutter something and the large black tub behind her began to fill, a gentle mist of steam filling the air.  Her mouth suddenly going dry. In her head she had envisaged him bent over the sink or the tub not in it, not naked! Her entire body flushed from the tip of her toes to the roots of her hair. Merlin how was she going to get out of this without looking like an embarrassed little girl. Which right at this moment was precisely how she felt!

 

Her brain didn’t have time to process the thought any further or formulate any reasonable objections. It was too busy processing the sound of a belt buckle being unfastened and the soft whir of a zipper dropping.  She hoped the _gentle mist of steam_ would turn into a swirling fog………

 

The irritating little voice was back, screaming at her to turn her back or find something, anything to remove from a shelf. She found herself silently chastising it and telling it to sod off, totally transfixed by his unhurried and inconsequential movements. He neither rushed nor belaboured the action.

Staring was rude but she couldn’t help it, her eyes shadowing his every move. He was simply stunning. Embarrassment gave way to a much more adult emotion, heat pooling low in her belly.

As he slipped the trousers down over his broad hips, Hermione couldn’t fail to notice the lower part of his body was as well defined as the top half. That glorious pale skin reminding her of some perfect sculpture. Her tongue moistened her suddenly very dry lips and she swallowed hard. Desperately trying to drag her eyes away from the narrowing trail of blond hair.

Hermione wanted to tell herself that this wasn’t happening, the immaculately tailored pants sliding down his long muscled legs and pooling around his ankles told a very different story.  

 

Lucius stepped from the dark puddle of material at his feet without a second thought and lowered himself into the tub.

As he submerged himself in the hot water he took a very deep breath, sorely tempted to wandlessly change the temperature to ice cold. 

If the truth be told he’d been certain that Hermione would turn away, not that he had wanted her to, but he hadn’t intended to strip in that way either. It was just, as a man it was impossible not to enjoy the way her eyes had roamed appreciatively over his body, how her skin had blushed as she did so. 

What Lucius hadn’t been prepared for was his own reaction.   A rush of arousal he could handle, so to speak. His body had been all too acutely aware of her since she had first touched him. The surge of emotion that flooded his body as she took in his naked form was something he hadn’t anticipated, it caught him completely unaware.

 

A deluge of water over his head put paid to any further thoughts on the subject and he spluttered pushing his wet hair from his face.

“A little warning would have been nice” He grumbled.

“Ha” she said depositing a second cup over his head. “Now you know how it feels”

“Hmm, I think my son has a lot to answer for…..… Mmmmm that feels gooooood”

The long rather sensual moan was out before he could stop it.  Hermione’s small thin fingers kneading his scalp, the aroma of his very expensive shampoo invading his nostrils. 

The pressure against his neck was glorious, her strokes alternating between feather-light and tantalising, to firm and reassuring.  Lucius was completely lost as her hands worked their own kind of magic, one coming to rest on his brow as she massaged the base of his skull, her fingers strong and steady.  She ran her hands nimbly across his head, all the time working the sandalwood scented gel into a frothy lather. Pausing at his temples her thumbs moved in small mesmerising circles. Using her slender fingers like a comb, her neatly manicured nails scrapping deliciously against his scalp, she dragged his hair back from his face. Rubbing it like you would a child’s against the nape of his neck. 

 

He felt Hermione gently guiding his head back, so his face was tilted towards her. Supporting his neck she allowed his hair to fall over her arm and down his back. She wasn’t looking at him Lucius noticed, regarding her from beneath his partially closed eyes.  Her gaze was fixed firmly on his hair, a smile quirking her lips as she stroked the foam away from his face.  He felt another cascade of water being poured over him much kinder than before. This time her warm brown eyes met his stormy grey.

 

For a second time Hermione had to concentrate hard.  Initially it had been so as not to sever any major arteries or take chunks out of his desperately handsome face. Her concentration now was all a pretence.  Well outwardly anyway. Washing hair, even Lucius Malfoy’s took little skill or effort. Keeping her mind and body under control whilst she did so was another matter entirely. She fixed her eyes on the long blonde locks that slipped between her fingers, avoiding looking anywhere else.   The briefest glimpse of his hard body had left Hermione tingling with a need she was trying hard to supress. 

She was wavering between wanting to put as much space between her and the powerful enigmatic man as was humanly possible or jumping in the tub with him. The rather husky moan that emanated from his lips as she rinsed the last remnants of the spicy smelling shampoo from his hair was drawing her strongly towards the latter.

Perhaps the infliction of a little pain would put paid to the throaty sounds he was making! Hermione, ran her hands harshly over his long clean mane, the hair squeaking as she dragged it back from his temples and squeezed out the excess moisture. Bunching it at the base of his skull forcing his head backwards and allowing their eyes to meet once more. 

 

Her breath hitched…….. _There_ was the face she recognised His eyes now almost the shade of slate, totally unfathomable. Those stunningly sculpted high cheekbones, his beautiful alabaster skin and that infamous smirk.

 

Lucius didn’t move, holding her gaze pointedly. He could see the emotions dancing across her face, she was torn, between what he wasn’t entirely sure. But something deep down inside him hoped one of the choices was to kiss him.  The way she was tugging on his hair was incredibly erotic, although something told him that wasn’t supposed to be the idea.  As her hands tightened in his now beautifully clean hair, he couldn’t help another soft moan that escaped his lips. Watching as Hermione’s chewed once more on her bottom lip, it took every inch of willpower he possessed not to reach out and touch her.

 

Oh Merlin she wanted to kiss that arrogant mouth, taste those incredibly soft looking lips.

Practically transformed visually back to the Lucius Malfoy she knew and up until about two hours ago, despised, Hermione realised he was quite simply one of the most handsome, no beautiful men she had ever laid eyes on. 

He was _almost_ entirely at her mercy. Naked, dripping wet and wandless. Although the words vulnerable and helpless were not those you would use when describing Lucius Malfoy, Hermione was sure if he wanted to turn the tables a few utterances of wandless magic would reverse the situation very quickly.  

 

She took a slow steadying breath and edged closer, dipping her head, her cheek barely touching his.

“Don’t dry it.” She whispered, her warm breath caressing his ear, her lips brushing against the shell.  Grabbing a towel from the large pile at the side of the tub and a brush she had caught sight of, Hermione walked back into the Lucius Malfoy’s bedroom.

 


	5. Who's Been Sleeping In My Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having fallen asleep on Lucius Malfoy’s bed, the handsome dark wizard returned to find her still slumbering in its warm depths. Her hair splayed on the gloriously soft pillow. Her breathing even and relaxed as he leaned over, she could hear this Papa Bear growling in her ear, “Someone has been sleeping in my bed.” The deep lusty growl turning to a soft purr as he wickedly exclaimed “and she is still in it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again for all of the comments and Kudos. This will be the last chapter, in my head it was only ever going to be a slightly erotic, no smut one shot. So I hope you will enjoy how and where it ends.

 

Hermione felt like Goldilocks, a character from a Muggle story her parents read to her as a child.  Clasping the towel and hairbrush, she went from one surface to another, trying to find a good place to sit.

The large hefty wooden chair she started in was precisely that, very big, very heavy and decidedly uncomfortable, it was also tucked away in the far corner of the room. She looked around for another possibility. The bed. Whilst being more comfortable and arguably much softer, Hermione decided it was a far more dangerous option. Her mind momentarily drifting back to that same childhood tale, but with a very different ending.………

_Having fallen asleep on Lucius Malfoy’s bed, the handsome dark wizard returned to find her still slumbering in its warm depths. Her hair splayed on the gloriously soft pillow. Her breathing even and relaxed as he leaned over, she could hear this Papa Bear growling in her ear, “Someone has been sleeping in my bed.” The deep lusty growl turning to a soft purr as he wickedly exclaimed “and she is still in it!”_

Hermione jumped up from the bed. She certainly had no intention of falling asleep in it, but there was no way she could sit on it, without it looking like an open invitation and she was certain Lucius Malfoy needed no encouragement.

Her final stop was the low chaise lounge in front of yet another stunning fireplace, something Malfoy Manor appeared to be awash with. Not only was it perfectly placed, but it was also extremely comfortable and large enough for two people to sit, albeit a tad snuggly.  Hermione perched on the edge of the seat, running her hand over the sumptuous material, she strategically placed the towel and brush beside her.

A little wandless magic of her own: “Incendio” and the grate in the hearth burst into life, instantly bathing her in a soft glow.

 

For the second time that evening Lucius Malfoy leant against the door jamb watching Hermione Granger. She looked lovely in the soft firelight, even more so than she had earlier in the library. Or was that now simply because he was looking at her through a man’s eyes?

He couldn’t recall ever having seen her hair restrained as it was tonight. Caught in a loose pleat, it fell neatly down her back. The flames highlighting the copper flecks and revealing a long elegant neck.  Lucius thought about trailing his lips from just above her collarbone, to the sensitive spot just behind the ear.

She had grown into beautiful young woman.  Everything about her screamed femininity, despite her slight frame, she was curved in all the right places. The white, fitted shirt she wore accentuating the soft swell of her breasts, the unfastened buttons, exposing just a hint of cleavage and the merest glimpse of lace. Lucius thought about trailing a finger from that sensitive spot just behind the ear, down between the valley of her breasts.

He had surreptitiously observed her move from one place to another. Trying not to laugh when she had practically jumped up from the bed, as if she had been burned. 

Clad in a black and grey silk velvet robe, he entered the room fully.  Moving to join Hermione in front of the cheerfully crackling fire, but Instead of taking the small space next to her on the seat, he dropped to the floor immediately in front of her, making himself comfortable.

“I assume, I was _told_ , not to dry it, for a reason. The towel and the brush were a giveaway, and I know you are a person that likes to see things to their conclusion.”

He looked into her somewhat astonished face, mild amusement twinkling in his grey eyes. “This position makes that task easier does it not?”

She was already struggling to process everything that had happened this evening. The strange turn of events, and her own reactions to them. Having Lucius Malfoy quite literally at her feet was almost too much, whatever the reason!

The light springing from the fire illuminated his face, almost as if he were in a spotlight. It cast uneven shadows that emphasised his angular features.  His hair, although a little dryer still clung damply to his head, its wet length leaving a small damp mark on his robe.  His torso was a hairs breadth from her knees. She looked at him for an overly long moment, almost aching to reach out and run her finger along his cheek.

She had instigated this, but had she instigated the erotic tension that hung in the air like strong heady perfume?

“Turn around,” she instructed, her voice husky and barely audible.

Lucius did as she asked, making no sound, save the soft rustle of his robe as he moved.

Having been subjected to this for many years by her mother, Hermione knew there was only one way to do it properly.  Shifting her own position on the low seat, she spread her knees and gently guided Lucius Malfoy back between them. The intimacy of the action making her heart to beat so rapidly she felt it would jump right out of her chest.

 

The movement caused the tie of his robe to loosen. The garment came slightly undone, and it slackened at the neck, slipping marginally off his shoulders. Hermione inhaled sharply, the ridiculously inoffensive action was so utterly sexy. As was the way the material slid over his freshly bathed skin, clinging to the muscles in his back. Her fingertips stopped just short of his exposed flesh……

She tried not to touch him, but his broad frame made it impossible, her legs coming to rest against his arms. She felt more heat emanating from his body than the fire, her own body burning wherever it came into contact with his. And some places where it didn’t! 

 

The roughness of the towel removing any excess moisture, was replaced by the gentle rub of her fingers through his hair. Deftly freeing it from any tangles, and lifting the strands, a few at a time to allow the heat from the fire to dry them.  Her delicate touches, and having her legs wrapped around him, even in this innocent way, were sweet intoxicating torture. Each touch sending a wave of unadulterated pleasure coursing through him, his body practically aching with arousal.

Lucius let out a very slow jagged breath as he felt her flat edge of her hand at his nape. Drawing his damp hair up and away from his neck, slowly letting the drier silkier locks fall back in in their place.     She had an incredibly sensual touch, he closed his eyes, wondering if she had any idea at all as to the effect she was having on him.

 

His hair was drying surprisingly quickly, the thick, now lustrous mane tumbling well beyond his shoulders, in that curtain of mellifluous white gold that was so familiar to her.

So this was what is felt like to run her fingers through Lucius Malfoy’s hair. Utterly sensuous, and ridiculously arousing. Her mind harking back once more to the childhood story, but this time………

_As she lay sleeping in Lucius Malfoy’s bed, he leant over to speak to her. His glorious mane of spicy scented hair falling across her face, shrouding her in a halo of silky platinum. She breathed in the heady scent of it, of him. His husky baritone voice rousing her gently from sleep. “Someone’s been sleeping in my bed”……_

Oh how she wished she were. Hermione’s hand stilled at the unbridled thought that jumped into her mind. Sleeping in Lucius Malfoy’s bed………with him stretched out beside her, one powerful arm thrown across her naked body.  Where in Merlin’s name had that notion sprung from?  Her face burned at the thought, and so did her traitorous body.

 

Lucius felt her hand still, he heard the little sound the escaped from between her lips, and he felt the change in her touch.  She might not be aware of what she was doing to him. But he suddenly became very aware of what he was doing to her. What he’d put down to the gaucheness of a slightly naive young woman, was in fact something very different!  The blushes hadn’t been borne out of embarrassment after all, nor had the slow appraisal of his body been awkward curiosity. Had it really been so long that Lucius didn’t recognise arousal in a woman?  He hadn’t misread any of the signs at all, nor had he misinterpreted the tension in the room. She wanted him, as much as he wanted her. She just didn’t want to admit it, or was afraid to.

 

He turned to face her, Hermione’s breath was trapped in her lungs as he rested his large hands on her knees, still positioned firmly between them. His stomach was pressed against the frame of the seat, bringing him painfully close.

 

“When we were talking in the library,” he began, his beautiful tones soft and enquiring. “You said I wasn’t Methuselah. You were going to say something else but stopped yourself. Tell me Hermione what was it?”

 

Hermione wanted to say she didn’t remember. But unfortunately she remembered exactly what she had been about to say with frightening clarity. The look in his penetrating grey eyes told her that if she lied to him, he would know.  The look in those same penetrating grey eyes also told her that he knew a lot more.  Denial would be as useless as lying to him.

The face before her was now that of the Lucius Malfoy she knew so well.  A little frisson of fear trickled down her spine and raced back up again. She picked up the hairbrush by her side. Not breaking eye contact with him, Hermione, slowly and deliberately pulled the wide paddle through the length of his now dry, glossy hair. Using her actions to punctuate her words.

“I….was….going…….to………say….that.”

She paused momentarily, pushing an errant strand back with her finger, slightly brushing his bare shoulder as she did so.  Hermione felt Lucius’ quick intake of breath at the fleeting contact with his actual body, not his head, his face or his neck, but his body. His skin was beautifully soft, she imagined touching more of it, savouring its silky smoothness. Dragging her eyes up once again to meet his. 

“That……you are still a _very_ attractive man.”

She watched a slow smile curve his lips, and those beguiling grey eyes warm at her words, feeling she were drowning in their infinite depths.

“And what about you?” She heard herself ask, watching as the warmth in his eyes altered to one of curiosity.

“Me?” Lucius thought quickly, had he started to ask something, and then not continued? No, not that he recalled.

She elaborated. “Just before you……when you were going….”

Hermione didn’t want to mention Lucius getting in or out of the bath, not whilst she was looking into those twinkling silver eyes.

“Just before I left the bathroom, you were thinking something, or were going to ask me something. Tell me Lucius, what was it?”

She used the same words as he had. His given name feeling alien on her lips, but she liked how his face changed when she said it.

 

How very perceptive she was. Lucius had prided himself on how well he had concealed his reactions from her, both the mental and physical ones. Perhaps he had not done so well on either count as he’d thought.

He wondered for a moment if he was in that precarious position once more of possibly being _evanescoed_ or having to explain to Draco why his friend had left so quickly.  Something told him he might have more to explain to his son than just that. 

“Truthfully……..”

“Always” She countered, once again throwing his own words back at him.

“Legilimency isn’t one of my skills, but I could tell from your face, you were contemplating something……. I hoped it was to kiss me.”

There was a brief pause, heat suffusing Hermione’s face yet again, before she said …“It was.” Surprised by her own admission.

Their eyes were still firmly locked.  She could feel Lucius’ thumbs moving in delicate circles against her legs.

“Why didn’t you?” He asked in equally hushed tones.

The gentle caress of his hands was exquisite, the tiny action almost robbing her of coherent thoughts.  “I was scared.” She finally said.

For the first time in what seemed like an eternity Lucius broke eye contact with her. Casting his glance down as he done in the library. It was easy to understand why she was still afraid of him. He deserved nothing less, he didn’t deserve her even being here, let alone anything else. Lucius felt the flat side of the brush under his chin, tilting his head up. Forcing his eyes to meet hers, a spark of defiance shimmering in their chocolate brown depths.

Hermione didn’t need to be a Legilimens either to know what Lucius was thinking.

“I wasn’t scared of you,” she said directly, holding his gaze once more. “Of just about everything else, the situation, my own reactions. What would happen if I did…….but bizarre as it may seem, not of you. Well not for the reasons you think.”

It was true, she wasn’t frightened of the former death eater who had been her nemesis as a child. She was however terrified of the gorgeous man, who made her feel more alive than she had done in a very long time.   

Hermione edged forward, “I am not scared now,” she whispered huskily, sliding off the small seat.

It was like stepping off of a giant precipice, and she knew once she committed herself, there was no going back. 

 

Lucius bit back the moan that threatened to escape from his lips as her body slid down his, moving backwards and allowing her to manoeuvre herself between him and the chair.  

His hand came up to cradle her cheek in the palm. Feeling her soft finger trace the outline of his lips, he yearned to wrap his arms around her, hold her close, but he didn’t, allowing her to set the pace. Her tentative touch as thrilling as if she were touching him intimately.  His body burned at the thought, and as he felt her lips gently pressed to his own, it practically ignited.

Hermione was swimming against a tide of fear, but as her lips touched his, she was driven by a wave of hunger that threatened to drown her.

His lips were warm and firm, but with a delicious softness that she wanted so much more of.  Her mouth slowly moved over his, leaving nothing undiscovered. Kissing his top lip tenderly and then moving to the bottom, tracing the outline with her tongue.  Lucius’ lips parted slightly, his tongue brushing against hers, deepening the kiss. 

A little part of his brain struggled with reality, but he didn’t want to think about anything except the luscious feel of her. Her warm mouth plundering his, responding to him with such passion. Finally Lucius gave in, his strong arms wrapping around her, pulling her close until her small frame was pressed hard against him, her body moulding perfectly to his.

The intimacy of the position leaving neither of them in any doubt as to their desire for each other.

“Hmmmm I was right,” Lucius breathed against her mouth. Brushing her swollen lips with his tongue.

Through a haze of passion Hermione realised he had spoken, her body was on fire, her mind was total mush. He was talking to her……what did he say, he was right?

“About what,” she managed to mumble, latching her mouth once again onto his.

Lucius’ lips left hers, trailing a path of blazing heat along the column of her throat. Hermione’s head fell back, giving him better access, revealing in the sensations he was inflicting on her senses. Gasping, and looking up suddenly as his teeth grazed the skin just where her shirt buttons began. His eyes smouldered with desire, a cross between glittering silver and slate.

“About you being in this house.” He practically growled at her.

Genuine fear shot through Hermione’s veins.

 “You really have reminded me how empty my life is, devoid of warmth, and passion…… Until now.”

A huge sense of relief washed over her, she didn’t mind reminding him of those things, as long as she was the one to rectify it. 

“Well Mr Malfoy,” she whispered in his ear. “Having dealt with your unwillingness to _bother_ as you put it.”

She ran her hand through his now silky hair, trailing a path across his perfectly smooth jaw. “Perhaps I need to deal with something else?” She ran a finger along his collarbone, kissing his exposed shoulder.

“Hmmm and what might that be Miss Granger?”  She was driving him to distraction. Lucius wasn’t sure how much longer he could restrain himself.

Hermione pushed him gently back, putting a few inches of space between them. She wanted to emulate his teasing, pretend to be affronted, but she couldn’t.

There was still a little deep rooted fear of Lucius Malfoy ebbing though her veins, that same sense of fear seemed to be heightening her desire for him, her unrelenting need for him.

“I don’t want you to wake up to any more nasty reminders.”

 

 

Draco Malfoy was livid. When he had quietly and discreetly walked away from the library door last evening, Hermione and his father _appeared_ to be talking quiet amiably. Well they were talking, that was a start, and there were no raised voices. He decided it was best to simply leave them to it, it was after all what he had hoped for. What had transpired after that clearly had not been good. What on earth had his father said, or worse, what had his father done, that had caused Hermione to not even talk to him and leave the manor at Merlin knows what time of night.

When she hadn’t joined him for breakfast, Draco had assumed that Hermione had managed to get through to his father and that they had talked late into the night, that she was simply enjoying a well-deserved lie in, even if it was something he knew she rarely did, whatever the reason. Starting to worry a little he had gone to check on his friend. Finding her room empty and her bed clearly unslept in, the younger Malfoy saw red. His father really was the absolute limit, couldn’t he have just been nice and polite to his friend for one evening!

He stormed from one end of the manor to the other, cursing under his breath. So annoyed he didn’t even bother to knock on his father’s door.  Fortunately the door was so heavy it was impossible to fling open loudly, even with full blown anger. Thus it opened in relative silence, not disturbing the two people, peacefully sleeping in the room.  The torrent of verbal abuse Draco was about to hurl at his father, died on his shocked lips.

His father, once more restored to his pristine self, albeit a little ruffled, and not, he imagined, entirely from slumber, was lying on his back fast asleep. His strong arms firmly wrapped around Hermione, who was draped across him, and sleeping equally as soundly. Her wild mane of brown hair covering his chest like a blanket.

Despite his shock, Draco smiled broadly, closing the door quietly.

Hermione Granger being wrong was a rare occurrence. Clearly his father had been only too happy to talk to her, listen to what she had to say, and it would appear a whole lot more.  

 


End file.
